


In Good Hands

by anachronism



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Gen, Missing Scene, Oneshot, Spoilers for 'Blood of Olympus', minor though they are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-21 18:20:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2477936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anachronism/pseuds/anachronism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He just experienced a hair-raising flight by dragon while under the influence of a possibly serious concussion. Frankly, Percy's in no condition to lead.</p><p>Or: A short missing scene at the final battle at Camp Half-Blood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Good Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Minor **spoilers for 'Blood of Olympus'**. In case you missed that.

Percy's concussion was slowly, but surely, working to equate itself with his swim in the River Styx.

"Greeks!" he rallied at their celebratory cheer. Annabeth disappeared from his side to greet her siblings. "Let's, um," - several rousing lines of their newfound cameraderie with the Romans raced to the tip of his tongue, but the pounding behind his eyes, the nausea risng in his throat, and the vague vertigo in his senses burned all remnants of eloquence from his speech - "fight stuff!"

Not one of his finer moments.

Luckily for him, they were aready high on pre-battle adrenaline. They roared like he had just given the pep-talk of the century and charged into the fray. He sighed a little and readjusted his grip on Riptide, giving himself a moment to breathe before following suit. Though the sight of a single figure making her way toward him and _not_ the nearest Gaea-minion made him pause. "Clarisse?"

"I take it you were going for something inspirational?" She was examining his appearance with a gruffly discerning eye. Oddly, it made him want to stand up straight and check for dirt on his clothes and under his fingernails.

He did neither. "For Camp Half-Blood," he tried. It didn't come out as a question, but it was close enough to make her scowl at him.

"Are you okay?"

Either the world was coming to an end, or he must really look like he just escaped the pits of Tartarus.

His brain laughed at him, pointing out why neither analogy was appropriate to voice out loud at the moment.

"No." Any thought of sugar-coating his condition didn't even cross his mind. "This one's yours."

Clarisse La Rue and Perceus Jackson: the unofficial gnerals of whatever Greek army they could round up in times of war. Their personal etiquette stated that whoever was more closely involved with the relevant quest got to take charge, and if neither were, then they would take turns.

He was tagging out of this round though. There was no way he could lead properly, not with how he was feeling.

"Can you fight?"

He gestured to the monsters slowly closing in on them from all sides. A small, slightly sardonic smile decorated his lips. "I can do what I have to."

And that was that. She nodded and disappeared into the violent crowd, casually decapitating an ogre as she went. She called out direction to the Greeks, voice rising above the din with practiced ease.

Percy swung Riptide once to measure his control and faced the row of monsters advancing on him. 

He grinned. "Who's first?"

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably the least of what bothered me in my reading of 'Blood of Olympus'. But seriously? Percy's last line in chapter LI was so OOC to me it actually jarred me from the story. I had to come up with an explaination.
> 
> I mean, come on Riordan. We know you're better than that.


End file.
